First Impressions
by kingtetsu
Summary: Jean is an expert at getting dates to homecoming, especially when it involves a lot of complaining and an annoyed freckled classmate who may or may not be cute. [JeanMarco Week Oneshot]


"Aaaauuuuughhhh….."

Yes, that's the sound of me whining over a French Roast in the middle of the local Starbucks. My voice is slightly muffled due to the fact that my face is currently situated _on_ the table in front of me in the form of a faceplant. Or facedesk, in this case.

My friend, Connie, emits a small sigh of his own as well, probably because I've been being kind of a pain in the ass for the past half hour, and having to enduring my self-induced pity party is pretty straining. But I couldn't help it, really; it was part of my nature to complain, especially when karma's turned against me and everything I believed in.

Maybe I'm being a _little_ too dramatic, but there's a good reason. I swear.

Let me explain a bit here. Once upon a time, I was just minding my own business, living out my shitty life and everything, when all of a sudden, my mom tells me that I've got two days to pack and wrap up my business because we're moving to some tiny-ass town I've never heard of in my life. I'm pretty sure my reaction was something along the lines of vulgarities and confusion mixed in a really bad quality blender of feelings.

Best thing about that? It's the middle of fuckin' _October_. If they had wanted to move, couldn't they have at least thought about doing it, you know, maybe _before_ the school year started? Catching up on all the schoolwork from the past two months is not exactly my favorite activity; it's eating up all the time I could've wasted - ehem, spent productively on tackling the miles of news feed on my Facebook (I could run a marathon on that thing, let me tell you).

And of course, there's the other issue, the one that may determine the entire foundation of my new social life. Have I mentioned that it's coming up in the next two weeks on Saturday from 7 to 10pm?

Connie finally breaks the silence, his voice piercing through the subtle buzz of coffee shop noises and background chatter. "Just accept it," he hums, tapping his fingers on the table absentmindedly.

I remove my head from my arms so I can skim his expression properly. He's got his brows creased in frustration, and I'm pretty sure he just rolled his eyes in exasperation as he takes a careful sip of his Pumpkin Spice Frappuccino.

I resist the urge to berate him on his choice of beverage, since I'm fairly certain I've mentioned to him that it is practically illegal to drink frappucinos past October 1st, and also the fact that that shit has so much sugar in it, it could incapacitate someone. Namely me, and hopefully him someday, if he keeps on drinking all that.

Nevertheless, I ignore my normal instinct to comment yet again on his drink, responding adequately to the more dire situation at hand (although admittedly the drink issue comes close).

"But it'll be really weird-!" I gesture animatedly, almost knocking over my half-empty coffee in the process. I don't understand why Connie can't see eye-to-eye with me on how fuckin' important this is to me. I have a reputation to upkeep, especially as being a new kid in the middle of Nowhere Town. "I bet no one else is going alone."

Connie closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before speaking up again. "Take a chill pill, man. It's not the end of the world, _trust me_."

I'm about to pluck another perfectly valid reason from my brain before I'm interrupted very elegantly by my friend.

"People. Can. Go. Alone." He grits out each word slowly and precisely, so I can hear each and every word properly (I can hear perfectly _fine_, Connie).

I snort in response. As if that would've made an impact on my situation. I don't think he understands how awful it is, being the new kid in the middle of October. I was already kind of a loser, and this moving issue isn't helping my situation. Unless I can make a good first impression at one of the biggest social events.

Homecoming.

But in order for that to happen, I really, really need a date. Going alone to any dance at all would instantly brand me as a complete loser right from, and _that_ is not something I can afford.

Besides, first day of school, I get to class late because of some annoying guy blocking my way while asking 'his bae' to homecoming. If I'm gonna suffer, can't I suffer for the sake of climbing up the social ladder at least? Or. You know. At least gain some friends. And ideally, a girlfriend.

An genius idea strikes me suddenly. I cough a little bit in preparation to clear my throat, and, admittedly, to make my pause seem more dramatic. I'm praying that it works. You know, even if it's a joke. Kinda. I don't know at this point, I'm pretty desperate.

"Connie Springer, will you go to Homecoming with me?" I offer the flowers that were part of the arrangement in the vase on our table, and throw in a wink for good measure.

I know he's not gonna take me seriously, even though he knows I bat for both teams, but my efforts are not entirely wasted - he almost chokes on his coffee. Almost. "In your dreams, _Jean Kirschtein_," he mocks me, taking another sip from his drink for real this time. "Besides, I'm taking Sasha."

I drop the flowers back into the vase and try to pretend I'm hurt instead. Maybe he'll feel bad for me, ditch his date, and come with me instead. "I thought we had something special."

He scoffs. "Don't kid yourself."

Well, mission failed. I sigh again, leaning back in my chair and crossing my arms, maneuvering to one of my last resort methods - pure sincerity. "Honestly though, I really don't want to go stag to this dance, Connie. Think about what a bad impression I would make. I'll look like a _loser_."

"Nobody gives a shit, much less me." He mimics my movements. "Just deal."

I'm about to protest when we both hear a rather dramatic groan. And this time, it surprisingly is not from me. Or from Connie, actually.

It's from the guy behind Connie.

It's someone I don't know, but I might've seen him at school, because he seems vaguely familiar. I wasn't really paying much attention to him before, but I think he was reading a book or something - before now, at least. I notice now his more general appearance, but the thing that stands out is his angry glares and the prominent freckles that dot his face in various patterns.

I raise an eyebrow at this guy as Connie twists around in his chair to face the perpetrator. I don't see why he would interject himself into our conversation that probably has absolutely nothing to do with him, but it can't hurt to hear him out anyway.

The guy slips a bookmark into the page he stopped at and sets it down quietly, his eyes trained on me the entire time. If we were in a different situation, I might've liked the warmth of the flecks of brown in said eyes, but there were only twinges of annoyance.

As soon as he puts the book down, he jabs his pointer finger in my general direction. Needless to say, I stare it down in deep and utter confusion. The next few words don't help.

"If you shut the_ fuck_ up, I'll take your ass to homecoming."

The silence is incredibly prominent, but the tension to break it is as thick as ice. Nevertheless, seeing as it's me...well, the tranquility only lasts a record five seconds. "...What-!?"

He ignores me, promptly continuing after he's heard my reaction. "People are trying to concentrate and your complaining is not _exactly_ ideal. And I'm a nice guy, so I'm doing something about it."

After getting over my initial shock, I can come up with something to say back other than mumbles of nonsense. If he wants sarcastic, I'll give it to him. That's the kind of battle I'm definitely not losing in. "What's your name then, _homecoming date_?"

"Marco Bodt," he basically sighs out, starting to look a bit reluctant about the whole thing. That's his problem. "I guess you want my number too?"

"How _else_ am I supposed to get in touch with you?" I thought that part was pretty obvious. Maybe this guy isn't being sarcastic on purpose. But that would mean that my homecoming date is kinda dumb. Or just in terms of socializing. But still.

Not that I can complain, though. He's better than nothing. And if I squint hard enough and stretch the truth a little bit, he might even be a little cute. And he _seems_ like a nice guy? Just maybe not at the moment.

He sighs and beckons with his hand. "Hand it over."

I take my phone out of my pocket and slap it down in his open palm. He unlocks it and puts in his (hopefully right) contact info before offering it back to me.

Another thought springs to my mind, and this one, I don't mind sharing. "By the way."

He's about to return to his book, so the gaze that he flits towards me is only filled with more annoyance. "_What_?"

"Might wanna think about making the asking a bit fancier next time." I smirk and pluck my phone from his fingers, tucking it into my pant pocket before patting it twice in confirmation. I don't need to look back at Marco to know that he has a priceless expression right now.

Connie's still gaping at the entire situation, probably still debating on whether to laugh or be surprised. But a couple waves in front of his face and an 'Earth to Connie' takes him out of his daze enough so that he can speak in barely understandable garble of English.

"Did...Did that just...?" He's genuinely surprised at the entire...miracle? Fiasco? I don't know, but whatever it was, it was definitely interesting. And good in my favor, I _think._

I just laugh as I pick up my now-empty cup, tossing it into the nearby trash can with ease. "Guess I don't need your company after all."


End file.
